Kinsman's Oath

by Susan Krinard

  She rose to face him. "You can't tell Lenko you have nothing. He'll kill you."

  "You are in danger from both shaauri and the Kinsmen. I must salvage what I can."

  Cynara took several steps toward him and stopped, checked by his rigid posture and her own shame. "We can still make use of this, Ronan. There must be a way, if you'll only—"

  A figure appeared in the doorway, its shadow falling across the threshold. Ronan looked up, as startled as she.

  "Sihvaaro," he said.

  "Ronan," he said in Standard. "I have come to warn you. Arv'Darja has arrived in force to demand possession of the female Cynara D'Accorso, in restitution for the death of their ve'laik'in at your hands." He met Cynara's gaze over Ronan's shoulder. "By shaauri custom, the kin of a shaaurin wrongly killed by one of another House or Line may demand payment for the life, in goods or in kind."

  "Ronan was defending himself," Cynara protested.

  "Darja considers your presence here an abomination, and not worth a single shaauri hair. Therefore, any death associated with you or your defense is regarded as nemii, 'unlawful.'"

  Ronan's entire body had become a crackling coil of energy. "Cynara is not a thing to be taken in blood-settlement."

  "Va'laik'i may debate this point," Sihvaaro said, "and stand firm against Arv'Darja. But I fear they will not. Of what value is Cynara D'Accorso? Better to surrender her and spare the risk of battle."

  "I will fight."

  "No, Ronan," Cynara said, gripping his shoulder.

  "Darja would be pleased to see you die, Ronan," Sihvaaro said. "Then the life of Cynara D'Accorso will still be forfeit."

  "I will speak to Aho'Ain'Kalevi at once."

  "He will not see you, but it may be that Samit will listen. They already gather at the Da'amera-ja, Place of Challenge."

  Ronan shook off Cynara's hold and pulled Sihvaaro aside. They spoke in hushed Voishaaur, Ronan agitated and Sihvaaro unshakably calm. At last they seemed to reach a conclusion, and Ronan turned back to Cynara. He kissed her, grinding his mouth into hers with a warrior's passion.

  "Sil akai," he said harshly, and strode for the door. With the Ancestors.

  Cynara charged after him, running full into Sihvaaro. "Stop him," she demanded. "Don't let him do this."

  "You love him."

  The question barely penetrated the roaring in her ears. "Yes—in the human or shaauri way, take your pick." She glared up at the big shaaurin. "He gave me the final farewell. He thinks he's going to die."

  "Arv'Darja will send its most skilled and powerful ve'laik'in against him. It is their right."

  "Will they let me fight for my own life?"

  "Challenge permits no weapons. You would die."

  "But Ronan would be safe."

  Sihvaaro's eyes seemed to reach inside her head. "He was angry with you. Why?"

  There was no point in prevarication. "He discovered that my mind carried planted Concordat intelligence designed to mislead the Kinsmen who sent him to kill the Archon. Ronan previously believed this information to be genuine, and had used the promise of it to bargain with your First for my life. I'd hoped the Kinsmen would take this intelligence, act on it independently, and reveal themselves as traitors to shaauri."

  "So you deceived my student."

  "In the interest of peace, yes. But that changes nothing." She tried to push past Sihvaaro, which was very much like attempting to move a boulder. "Let me go. I've got to try—"

  His powerful hands stopped her. "This information may still damage the Kinsmen if they do not know others possess it."

  "That's what it was designed to do."

  "Then you may yet have an opportunity to give it to them." He released her. "Follow the rightmost path to its end, and you will find Da'amera-ja. I will come when I can." Nimbly as a young foal, Sihvaaro bounded away. Cynara set off at a run, shooting past shaauri in ones and twos headed in the same direction.

  She expected to have to fight her way to the Place of Challenge if she encountered any ve'laik'i, but it seemed they had all gone ahead of her. The path ended in a cluster of impressive buildings that she assumed must be the Kalevi administrative center. A large assembly of shaauri, all adult but of many fur patterns, formed a silent circle about the space that resembled a primitive arena. A banner of black and gold had been planted at one end, and a blue banner at the other, clearly marking two camps. Darja, and Kalevi.

  Ronan stood with the Kalevi, speaking to a shaaurin that Cynara recognized as Samit, the House Second. Even from a distance she could see that the conversation was an argument; Ronan's hands swept in broad gestures, as if he were shouting, though his voice wasn't raised.

  He was arguing for Cynara's life, urging Kalevi not to give her up. Asking them to permit him to fight for her. Cynara picked up her pace and dashed across the open space of the arena.

  A hundred shaauri faces swung toward her, accompanied by ominous sounds of anger. Ronan didn't turn until she was at his shoulder.

  "Be silent," he whispered, and resumed his speech with the shaaurin. Cynara stepped past him.

  "Aino'Ain'Kalevi, " she said, "I have brought this conflict upon your House. I ask permission to make it right."

  The shaaurin's ears swiveled in amazement. She spoke sharply to Ronan, who hesitated so long that the Second repeated her demand. Ronan shook his head in human denial and answered.

  "Did you tell her?" Cynara asked. "I want the chance to fight."

  He swept back his arm, pushing her behind him. The words he addressed to the shaaurin had a desperate sound of finality to them, half plea and half threat. Cynara braced herself for attack.

  None came. After a long pause, the Second turned to another dark-striped shaaurin. They consulted in almost inaudible tones. Finally the Second spoke to Ronan again, and her words were those of grave ceremony.

  Ronan bowed deeply and took three steps back, coming to stand at Cynara's shoulder.

  "What have you done?" she demanded.

  "You have impressed Va Samit with your boldness," he said. "You will not be given to Darja without challenge."

  "Will they let me fight?"

  "No. Even shaauri have the concept of what humans call 'fair play.'"

  "You can't do this, Ronan."

  "Your confidence inspires me, Aho'Va." The twinkle of amusement in his eyes died almost instantly. "It could have been much worse if Lenko had made the decision, but he sent Samit to deal with us."

  She grabbed the front of Ronan's shipsuit, heedless of their audience. "How could it be worse? They'll send their strongest against you. No matter how good you are, your chances…" She pulled his head down to hers. "I won't let you die for me."

  "But you must." He caressed her cheek with the back of his hand, so tenderly. "I have declared you my lifemate, and under shaauri law this gives me uncontested right to fight in your place for any cause, and preserve your life with my own no matter what the offense. To do otherwise would dishonor me forever."

  Lifemate. Mother Sea. "Do you think I care about honor—yours, mine, or anyone else's?"

  "It is all I have, pathless as I am."

  Ronan saw the fury in her eyes, desperation so strong that it filled his whole mind and threatened to undermine the preparations he had made for the coming fight. She would give her life for him. She would throw away her command, loyalty to her people, her bright future for his sake.

  His greatest desire was to reach out to her, share the way they had done in joining, know once more the deepest essence of her soul. But he was afraid. He felt nothing when he regarded the Darjai and knew what they would send to meet him. He did not fear death. This woman, with her fierce courage, terrified him. The thought of losing her terrified him.

  He must survive, and win.

  He took her face between his hands and kissed her lips. "Forgive me," he said. Then he released her and sought his kin who watched on the sidelines, shaauri who had been his companions in childhood.

  Though they follo
wed different Paths, his old friends defied convention and stood together now: Annukki, returned from Walkabout as ki'laik'in; Mairva, now a Kalevi warrior; Riko, who had come back va'laik'in and helped administer the settlement. There were others as well, those who had accepted him as a boy, and Hanno stood behind them, her ears pressed low with anxiety.

  Va Riko made the sign of affectionate greeting. "We are pleased to see you returned safely from be'rokh-kaari'la," he said, "and that you have found a lifemate. But the circumstances are indeed unfortunate."

  Ronan bit back a laugh. "Indeed," he said, bowing. "I am grateful for your presence."

  "We would have come to see you at an earlier time," Ve Mairva said, "but you were confined, and then Arv'Darja came." She glanced at each of her companions in turn. "Your appearance has not changed since be'rokh-kaari'la. What Path have you followed?"

  Ronan didn't have the courage to admit the truth. "It sometimes requires… many Walkabouts for humans to find the correct Path."

  "This is regrettable. You are strong, but not ve'laik'in. It is foolishness to fight the Arv'Darja champion. I will do so in your place."

  "You know that will not be permitted. But I do request your assistance in one small matter."

  "It is yours."

  "My lifemate would put herself at risk and intrude upon the challenge. I would have you hold her, with respect, until the battle is finished."

  Mairva's whiskers rippled. "She, too, has courage, your lifemate." She blinked solemnly. "I will keep her safe until the battle is finished."

  "If you lose the fight," Va Riko said, "your mate will be forfeit to Darja. Is there a thing you would have me do to prevent this?"

  "I, too, offer assistance," Ri Annukki interposed. Hanno whispered agreement.

  Their proposal was extraordinary. Shaauri did not interfere with lawful challenge given and accepted. Shaauri did not band together across Paths… unless they held in common childhood affection for one who had no Path and thus remained an adolescent who must be protected.

  Cynara had wondered if shaauri could love.

  Ronan bowed. "Sh'eivali, I honor you greatly," he said, his voice heavy with emotion. "I ask that you do what you can to preserve my lifemate from harm and find a way to return her to her own people in the Concordat. Sihvaaro will aid you."

  "We hear," Riko said.

  "We hear," the others echoed.

  There was no further speech, no expressions of good luck such as humans used, no cries of encouragement. Ronan met each gaze in turn, conveying respect and affection. Hanno was last. To her he sent all the love in his heart, and smiled.

  He turned away before they could see the tears in his eyes, that shameful badge of his inescapable humanity. He moved with slow, measured steps to the center of Da'amera-ja and sat cross-legged on the gravel to begin his preparations. Cynara pushed at the fringe of his consciousness, protest and anger and outrage. He cast her out. One distraction could see him dead, and Cynara in Darja hands. He must be all warrior now, single-minded for battle like any ve'laik'in.

  He must cease to be human.

  Minutes passed in silence. Even the enemy respected this time; it could last for hours if he wished. But he did not. He repeated the chants of the Eightfold Way until only that endless, perfect circle existed.

  He opened his eyes and rose to his feet. Arv'Darja had sent its champion, a deceptively small ve'laik'in whose stance and confidence told Ronan that he was among the House's best fighters. He wore no covering but his own fur, as required by tradition.

  No one would object if the pitiful human retained his garments over naked skin. Ronan stripped off his shipsuit and tossed it to the edge of the arena. He bowed to his opponent and then turned to acknowledge the leaders of his House.

  Samit no longer stood to the fore. Lenko had taken the place of honor to preside over the combat, and his eyes glowed with satisfaction.

  Ronan bowed again, cold as winter's kill. He knew that Cynara stood in the custody of his friends, safe and restrained. More than that knowledge he did not seek. He waited calmly for Lenko to bid the challenge begin.

  Someone shouted. The voice rang so clear that all ears flattened in shock, and every face turned toward it.

  Sihvaaro stepped into the arena and set himself before Lenko, hands folded at his waist. He bowed.

  Ronan's detachment faltered. He could hear only fragments of the conversation between Sihvaaro and Lenko, but what he understood was enough. He abandoned his position and ran to stop his teacher.

  Sihvaaro bowed to Lenko once more and turned to face Ronan. His eyes were eloquent, full of pride and sorrow and a calm that could not be touched.

  "It is done," he said softly. "Aho'Ain'Kalevi Lenko has given me leave to fight in your place, ina-ma."

  "No." Ronan charged past Sihvaaro, but the shaauri stepped neatly into his path and hurled him to the ground. Ronan was on his feet instantly. Sihvaaro held him with a grip like a koinno's jaws.

  "You cannot," Ronan begged, the air gone poisonous in his chest. "There is no precedent—"

  "Nevertheless, Lenko has agreed. You must obey."

  "If he agreed, it is because he believes you will be defeated," Ronan said desperately. "He wants to be rid of you as well. Arv'Darja will still win the right to take my lifemate, and you will die for nothing."

  Sihvaaro's eyes lit. "So that was not only a deception. I am pleased." He touched Ronan's chin. "There is little time left. Hear me, ina-ma. When the challenge was given by Arv'Darja, I tried to convince Lenko to expose our mutual Kinsmen enemies by helping to lay a trap for them, as you wished."

  "Cynara—"

  "Lenko refused, as I expected. He only wishes to be rid of all humans, at the expense of the welfare of shaauri-ja. But he is far too conservative to take direct action against your lifemate, and I have planted enough doubts in his mind that he would never share suspicions about your Concordat intelligence with the Kinsmen. He is happy enough to let Darja rid him of all his problems."

  The muscles in Ronan's temples tightened to the point of pain. "He may succeed in his desire."

  "Do I look so old and weak to you, ina-ma?" Sihvaaro hissed a chuckle heavy with irony. "I also believe Lenko hides some plan of his own, and that may yet be turned to your advantage. His cunning is limited, and he is by no means an able leader. Eventually he will fall. Be prepared and hold your mind clear." He gazed over Ronan's head at the waiting Arv'Darja warrior. "I must prepare. Do not disobey this last request."

  He turned his back, and Ronan felt the complete severance of all contact between them, more irrevocable than a thousand light-years of space. Sihvaaro would not be moved.

  If Ronan had been raised as a human, he might have prayed. Shaauri were stoic by human standards, not given to weeping and wailing over what they could not change. And he could not change this.

  Without thought he reached for Cynara, a child seeking comfort from one trusted and loved above all others. He stopped himself before he found her mind. She alone would understand. She would willingly take the burden of his sorrow, but he would return nothing but affliction and grief.

  He sank to his knees where he was, at the edge of the Da'amera-ja, ignoring Lenko, Samit, and the others behind him. The Eightfold Way brought no consolation. He watched, dry-eyed, as Sihvaaro stripped off his robes and faced the Arv'Darja warrior.

  The rituals that followed were meaningless noise. Lenko spoke, and then the Aino'Arv'Darja who had brought the challenge. Sihvaaro and his opponent bowed.

  Then the fight began. The Darja warrior attacked. Sihvaaro moved in a blur to counter the strike, and flung the ve'laik'in aside.

  So each strike and counterstrike, attack and defense followed in blinding succession, the opponents so evenly matched in skill that it seemed the fight must continue past nightfall. No one but Ronan saw Sihvaaro begin to falter; no one knew or loved him so well. He seemed invincible, and ageless.

  He was not. A small misstep, and Sihvaaro came away with
deep scratches on his thigh. Another tiny miscalculation, and one graying ear was half torn from his head.

  Ronan bit down on his lip until he tasted blood. He felt every blow. He wished the human gods would strike him down in Sihvaaro's place.

  They had no mercy for one such as him. Sihvaaro fell at last, tumbling onto his back, and rose too slowly. The Arv'Darja warrior did not hesitate. He struck a killing blow and leaped away.

  Sihvaaro lay unmoving. The ve'laik'in uttered the cry of victory, and his fellow Darja warriors took it up.

  Ronan did not wait for final word. He sprang up from his place and threw himself between Sihvaaro and the victor, cradling the old shaaurin's head in his arms.

  "Sihvaaro," he whispered. "Sihvaaro!"

  Eyes focused. The third eyelid was already drawn half closed like a veil, signaling the nearness of death.

  "Ina-ma," Sihvaaro sighed. "It is not… what I would have wished. But do not give up hope." He chuckled. "Hope is very human. I…" He coughed, and blood stained his whiskers. "I have learned of your true past. You must go to Arhan, those who adopted your father. They will… defend you."

  "Sihvaaro."

  "Hear me." Hear my last secret, which I kept even from you.

  Sihvaaro. You speak…

  I, too, know the way of mindwalking. There are others like me, in hiding. I summoned Arhan as soon as I sensed your approach to Aitu. Ancestors bid them come quickly. He visualized a series of numbers and letters, code to be used if Ronan had to reach the Arhan ship. Go with them, my son.

  Ronan bent his head to Sihvaaro's. The old shaaurin licked the comer of his mouth. "Tears are another human custom I envy." His breath rattled. "All Paths are One. The circle will be complete."

  He sighed, and then his body loosened in Ronan's gentle hold.

  Ronan flung back his head and bellowed, the mourning cry harsh and terrible in a human throat. He sang in petition to Ancestors not his own. No shaaurin moved to stop him.

  In his grief he reached for one mind, one heart. She did not hear him. He clambered to his feet.

  "Come," he said to the Darja warrior, baring his teeth. "Come, you and your brothers, and take me."